


kissing the bruises left behind

by theappleppielifestyle



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Relationships, but then it turns healthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 03:49:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3342572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theappleppielifestyle/pseuds/theappleppielifestyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“God, I’d be lost without you, Tony,” Steve says, like a confession, and his eyes are closed, leaning in to kiss Tony, so he doesn’t see Tony’s smile stutter.</p><p>It’s not that Tony doesn’t like it- he does, but it worries him. He can’t put his finger on it, but something about Steve saying that to him makes his stomach turn over. Not that it matters, because if Steve’s lost without Tony then Tony’s going to do everything to be there for Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	kissing the bruises left behind

Tony’s been in a few unhealthy relationships in his life. He knows what fucked up relationships look like, and his and Steve’s definitely aren’t like that.

Steve has never been any kind of threatening towards him, he kisses Tony awake in the mornings and asks how he’s doing and he actually  _cares_ , and Tony knows he’s lucky to have him. He does.

It’s just- god, he’s so  _tired_. It’s all the time now, never relenting, a constant steady beat of exhaustion from the time he cracks his eyes open to the time he finally gets to lie down again, and the two of them seem to have a longer gap between them every time Tony thinks back on it. He nearly collapses in public twice, but manages to drag himself into a cab or locks himself in a bathroom to catch a nap before it happens.

Tony’s fine. He’s fine. Really. 

It starts like this: on the night of their first date, Steve pulls back from kissing Tony (which never fails to send a thrill down Tony’s spine, because he’s kissing  _Steve_ ) to give Tony an earnest look, big doe eyes and everything, lips barely brushing Tony’s as he speaks.

“God, I’d be lost without you, Tony,” Steve says, like a confession, and his eyes are closed, leaning in to kiss Tony, so he doesn’t see Tony’s smile stutter.

It’s not that Tony doesn’t like it- he does, but it worries him. He can’t put his finger on it, but something about Steve saying that to him makes his stomach turn over. Not that it matters, because if Steve’s lost without Tony then Tony’s going to do everything to be there for Steve.

It’s a lot of pressure, is the thing. Tony’s so busy with SI nowadays that he hardly has enough time to sit down and watch a movie with his team, but Steve’s sighing into his mouth like Tony just gave him the key to happiness and Tony decides he’s going to put Steve first and damn the consequences.

After this, whenever they’re at galas and Tony sees Steve getting that vacant, glazed look that means he’s going to a bad place in his head, he taps Steve on the shoulder and motions with his head. Steve will grin, because he’s always grinning when Tony’s around, and follow Tony out the back door to take a walk around the gardens, or take a trip in the car, or even just go home and eat pizza off each other’s laps.

It’s great at first, Steve snuggling into Tony’s neck and wrapping his arms around his waist, nuzzling at him. “I swear, sometimes you’re the only thing that makes the future bearable,” he mutters into his skin once, and Tony feels the worry in the pit of his gut again, the pressure tightening and solidifying into a weight at the bottom of his stomach.

Tony strokes his hair and doesn’t say anything, distracts him with kisses that turn into more, which Steve is always happy to go along with, since he’s young and has the super-serum and can pretty much go anytime he wants.

Which would be great, except Tony is nearing the bad side of forty and he very definitely isn’t ready to go anytime he wants, has to plan these things out in his head to make sure he’ll be able to get hard by the time Steve wants it again. He’s even stopped jerking off so that if Steve surprises him with sex, he won’t disappoint them both. Because Steve surprises Tony with sex a lot, which Tony can’t blame him for, really- he’s in his mid-twenties, and the serum did things to his sex drive, and come on, Tony is a hot piece, who wouldn’t want a slice?

Plus, Steve’s been not having sex for twenty-six years, it only makes sense that once he discovered how great it is he’d want it all the time. Which he does, and Tony doesn’t mind, but he finds himself occasionally just- turning over and taking it so Steve doesn’t notice he physically can’t get hard again. He makes the right noises, the right faces, acts like he’s rubbing off against the sheets, and Steve hasn’t noticed he’s faking yet, but Tony supposes he’s distracted by having his dick in Tony’s ass. Tony theorizes he could probably lie there like a limp fish and Steve still wouldn’t notice. It’d be more relaxing for Tony, at least.

But when he tests out his theory, Steve stops mid-thrust and asks Tony what’s wrong, if he’s okay, did Steve do something?

“No, it’s fine,” Tony tells him guiltily, wincing when Steve pulls out. He twists away when Steve reaches to take Tony’s dick. “I’m just- I’m not into it at the moment.”

“Okay,” Steve said, still frowning a little. “That’s fine, Tony.”

“Uh,” Tony says, waving a hand down at Steve’s obvious lie. “Not for you.”

Steve glances down, rolls his eyes. “Yes, Tony, I have an erection. It goes away. Now, I’m going to sleep, are you joining me?”

Tony looks on helplessly as Steve lies down, pulls a sheet over him. He’ll pull a blanket over him later, but right now he’s still cooling down from the arousal that it’s blatantly clear he still feels.

Steve holds his arms out. “Tony? You okay?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, and lies down, angles himself into Steve’s arms. He feels Steve’s cock, hard against him, and feels so guilty that next time he’s in that situation he makes an extra effort, moaning and pushing back on Steve’s dick while idly wishing he could just go to sleep already, his limbs feeling like they’re going to give out from exhaustion.

 

 

 

Tony winces every time his phone rings, nowadays. A phone call means he has to go to a meeting, or a gala, or finish stacks of paperwork until his hand cramps up. Or lately, it means he’s being called in to fix something his team fucked up.

Thor apologizes when Tony finds him in the remnants of a smashed table, giggling his way through it and shaking the hair out of his eyes.

“Sorry, my friend,” he tells Tony, clapping him on the shoulder hard enough that it rocks Tony forwards. “The mead got to us.”

“Us?”

“Hurgh,” Clint moans as he pokes his head out from a pile of what Tony had assumed to be dirty laundry. He squints up at Thor. “Hurgh?”

Thor laughs, a great rumbling sound. “You fought valiantly, Hawkeye, but I have proved my stomach can handle more liquor than yours!”

“Hurgh,” Clint grunts, and lowers his head back down, disappearing into the sheets. There’s a faint gagging noise from their depths.

Tony watches the exchange with a pinched smile. “Thor? How the hell did you two manage to break a wall?”

“Ah,” Thor says, chuckling. “That was a mighty endeavour!”

Tony sighs and waits until Thor has finished describing how they managed to inflict thousands of dollars worth of damage on Tony’s house, and then goes to call contractor.

It’s worse when they go out, when Tony has to go to court the next day and pin on a smile and promise everyone it will definitely never happen again to a sea of distrusting eyes, and then pay the damages. So far the record is eighteen thousand dollars, for Steve accidentally running into and knocking over a local landmark that was cherished by many and therefore cost a fuckton.

Steve apologizes heartily, peppering Tony’s face with kisses and telling him he’s sorry he had to go into court, at which point he pulls back and frowns. “Hey, how many times have you been into court in the last month? What have they even needed you for?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony tells him, and when Steve opens his mouth, concerned eyebrows still in place, Tony shoves his hand down his pants so Steve groans and the conversation goes off track.

 

 

 

 

Tony has been in abusive relationships before- nothing big, of course, nothing worth bothering anyone about- but he isn’t in one with Steve.

He assures Pepper of this when she notices a handprint-shaped bruise as he’s stretching and yawning.

“The guy has superstrength,” Tony points out as she’s pursing her lips at his hip where he’s pulled his shirt over the bruise. “Occasionally, he gets a little excited and squeezes too hard. It’s not a big deal.”

He has to assure Steve, too, back at the beginning. He had started off by saying they’re from the last battle they’d been in, but when a bruise shows up in the exact shape of a few of Steve’s fingers on the inside of Tony’s thighs, Steve looks at him with wide, concerned eyes and Tony had to admit that sometimes Steve holds on too hard.

“It’s okay,” he backtracks when Steve shrinks away slightly, shoulders hunching. “Seriously, Steve, I- I like it. It’s hot.”

Steve eyes the bruise, guilt heavy in his eyes, and Tony sighs, taking Steve’s chin in his hands. “Steve. I promise you, it’s very hot that you get carried away enough to-”

“Hurt you,” Steve says, still glaring down at the bruise like it’s personally offended his mother. “That I  _hurt_ you, Tony.”

Tony waves his arms. “Only a little bit! It hardly twinges.”

“It’s a massive bruise,” Steve says, mouth twisting. “I’ve had bruises like that before, Tony, I know how much they can hurt.”

Tony rolls his eyes and make sure Steve sees it. “Well, I think it’s hot. In fact, I’d love it if you’d give me more.” He regrets it a little as he says it, but pushes it away as soon as it surfaces. He can handle a few bruises if it means he gets to be with Steve, and at the start, he really did find them kind of hot. Before he started knocking them into table and having to sit down for a moment so he didn’t sob, because  _wow_ , they really packed a punch. But he can’t say anything, can’t be weak about it, because Steve needs him to be strong, for Tony to be the anchor that keeps him tethered in the here and now.

Steve looks at him dubiously, so Tony starts kissing the look off of his face. “I like it,” he insists, and says it until Steve gives him a matching one on his other hip, Tony chewing on the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t wince.

Steve still looks at the bruises he gives Tony like he doesn’t know what to think of them, but whenever Tony catches him doing it he takes Steve’s mind off of them.

 

 

 

 

Tony goes on a business trip to China, returns bone-tired and wanting to collapse on his bed for the next few days, and finds that while he’s been gone his team has trashed three whole floors of the Tower.

It’s probably bad that he’s not even surprised anymore, just so, so fucking  _tired_.

“Sorry, dude,” Clint says, munching his way through a bag of chips as he watches TV in the ruined lounge of floor 3. “But you’ve got the money, right? You can pay for it.”

Tony grunts a reply and goes to sit in a corner to check his messages. He has three from Pepper, one from someone important-sounding saying someone threw a couch out of Avengers Tower yesterday and people are pressing charges, and one from a board member in China who wants to ask Tony some questions about the recent merger.

Tony listens to all of them, and then turns off his phone, convinced that if it rings again he’ll throw the phone out of the Tower and then get sued for that, too. He takes several deep breaths, then some slower ones, and he wakes up hours later slumped over the table with Natasha poking his shoulder.

He looks up at her, sighs when he sees concern in her eyes. He can’t deal with this right now, he’s too damn tired to fake it.

“Hey, Stark,” she says, sitting down in the chair next to him. “Made you tea.”

“Is it poisoned,” he mutters, taking the cup and sipping at it.

“Yes,” Natasha answers, like always. It’s a little thing they have- Natasha gives him food or drink, Tony darkly asks if it’s poisoned and she says  _yes_  as Tony starts in on it. It’s nice, this little thing they have going on. Tony would appreciate it if he wasn’t minutes away from passing out.

She waits until he’s halfway through the cup before saying, “Sorry about the ruins up there.”

“Did you help?”

“I may have,” she admits. “Though I didn’t think it would go that far.”

“Mm.” Tony takes another mouthful of tea.

“We can stop doing these things, if you want,” she tells him. “If it’s bothering you.”

“It’s fine,” Tony says on automatic. The tea is warming his palms, his mouth, heating his tongue. When was the last time he drank anything? He remembers having a whiskey on the plane, but that was over eight hours ago.

She watches his face, and Tony shifts uncomfortably, putting his elbows on the table and bringing the cup to his lips again. At least she isn’t subtle about it anymore, she doesn’t try to hide it when she puts him under scrutiny. Everyone’s always hiding it, but Natasha doesn’t anymore, not since Tony asked her not to.

“Someone threw a couch out the window,” Tony says, and Natasha nods.

“I heard that happened. What are you going to tell the court?”

Tony taps at the rim of his glass, titling the dregs around the bottom of the cup. “I was thinking a Skrull attack. Thor used the couch as a weapon and the Skrull ducked out of the way in time for it to hit the window.”

“I’d buy it,” Natasha says, and Tony nods.

“You’re a good liar,” she continues.

Tony hums into the cup. “Have to be, in this line of work.”

“Superhero-ing?”

“No, my actual work,” he corrects her. “The thing that pays damages when someone throws a couch out the window.”

She ducks her head in a nod, leans back in her chair. “Tony?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s been going on with you?”

“Nothing’s been going on with me,” Tony says, but he doesn’t smile into it, too tired to muster up the effort. Instead he makes it sound cavalier, casual, like it’s a dumb question for her to be asking him. He thinks he pulls it off.

Or, he thinks he pulls it off until she snorts, shakes her head. “You’re a good liar, Tony. But you aren’t that good,” she tells him, and leaves him there with her teacup until Tony forces himself upwards, staggers into the elevator and then collapses into bed.

 

 

 

 

He realizes there might be something wrong when he finds himself careening into the ground near the end of a battle.

JARVIS is near-screaming at him in a way he hasn’t heard before, in a way he doesn’t think he designed into him when he was writing his code. Steve, Natasha, any other Avengers that notice, yell through the comm at him the moment before he impacts.

Tony has a split second of  _what am I doing_  but he doesn’t try to bank, just hits the ground and blacks out.

He wakes up groggy and in pain in SHEILD medical, his team plus Pepper and Rhodey sitting in plastic chairs around him. He stares at Rhodey, who has his chin resting on his hand, his face sagging into it. Why is Rhodey here, isn’t Rhodey in Istanbul, how long has Tony been out-

“He’s awake,” Clint croaks, sounding god-awful, like he’s swallowed a grater and slid it up and down his throat a few times as he did it.

Everyone in the room looks at Tony, who wets his cracked lips. “Why’s Rhodey here?” God, he doesn’t sound too good either.

“All this time you’re asking me to be around more, now you’re asking why I’m here,” Rhodey says, obviously trying for light and failing, worry colouring his voice.

“Why’re you here,” Tony says, head still swimming with whatever painkillers they’ve pumped him with. “Why’s- what-”

“He flew in from Istanbul,” Steve says, and Tony feels a pressure on his hand, looks down to see Steve is holding it. Well, that’s nice. It’s less nice that Steve looks like he’s going to cry. “You’re really hurt, Tony.”

Huh. Tony wets his lips again, his tongue too thick in his mouth. “I flew into the ground?”

“At first we thought your suit malfunctioned,” Pepper says, her eyes red-rimmed, and oh, god, he made Pepper cry, he’s always doing that, why is he always doing that- “But JARVIS told us you were in perfect control. That you drove it into the ground yourself.”

“Oh,” Tony says. He remembers, vaguely, the battle was coming to an end and he was looking over the few blocks that they had destroyed in the fight, thinking about how much that would cost when the city inevitably blamed Tony for it and made him rake up the money to rebuild it. Then he had thought of how they need to work on the Avengers’ public image, and how much work needs to be done there, but when he had brought it up to Steve he had gotten a puzzled look and Steve asked why it mattered so much to Tony, and Tony had sat there for a while after Steve left, staring into space and wondering why he’s been working so hard at this if his boyfriend didn’t even give a shit about it, and how he can’t tell Steve how he feels because Steve needs him to be put together, needs Tony to be his anchor in the present.

He remembers the stress building and building until the overwhelming exhaustion rushed over him, and then he was on a one-way course to the ground with JARVIS growing increasingly louder as he sped up.

“Tony,” Pepper says, chin shaking, “you tried to kill yourself.”

Tony winces when Pepper says it, which sends a dull burst of pain through him- God, what has he done to himself? “I didn’t want- I didn’t do that,” he manages, slurring the words in his mouth. “I just- wanted it all to stop for a while.”

“Wanted what to stop?”

“I dunno. All of it,” Tony sighs, and someone is asking him something but the painkillers are tugging again, pulling him under.

 

 

 

 

Steve watches Tony’s eyes flutter shut, fear spiking through him in barbs before he looks up at the monitors and sees nothing’s changed.

“Goddamnit,” Clint mutters after a few seconds of silence have passed. “Fucking- damn it, I knew something was wrong.”

“Well, it’s not like any of us did anything to help,” Bruce says quietly, cleaning his glasses on his shirt with shaking hands like he’s been doing for the past fifteen minutes with a brief break when Tony woke up.

Clint throws his hands up and lets them slap down on his knees. “Yeah, well, I thought Stark would just get over it! That he was having a hard time at SI, or some shit!”

“Which he was,” Pepper says, “but I doubt that’s why he did it.”

“Fuck,” Clint snarls, muffled by his hands over his mouth. “Fucking fuck.”

“What Hawkeye is so eloquently trying to say is that we didn’t think it was too big of a concern,” Natasha says, gaze still on Tony’s moving chest. “I- considered the possibility that he was at risk, but I thought he would tough it out, like always.”

“He insisted he fared very well, whenever I asked him,” Thor says, arms crossed over his chest.

Rhodey breathes out hard through his nose, pinches at its bridge. “Yeah? How many times did you ask him?”

Thor opens his mouth, and then closes it along with his eyes. He rests his head on the window. “I may have also thought he would, as lady Natasha said, ‘tough it out.’”

“Steve?” Pepper sniffs, raises her head high. “Did you notice anything?”

“Of course,” Steve says, gaze darting from Pepper to Tony’s motionless body. He squeezes his hand gently. “I- he always told me he was fine.”

“And you believed him.”

“Mostly,” Steve admits. “I thought- I didn’t-”

He locks his jaw, breathing going uneven. “I always thought he’d tell me if things ever got this bad.”

“We all did,” Natasha says. “And we should’ve known better. Should’ve done better.”

“We will,” Steve says fiercely, and in that moment he realizes he’s holding on too tight to Tony’s hand; the skin around his fingers has gone white with pressure. Guilt assaults him like a physical punch, and he loosens his grip.

 

 

 

 

The doctors tell them they can go home and sleep, but they all insist they’ve slept in worst places and paper-scissors-rock to decide who takes the chairs and who takes the floor.

Steve wakes up to a nurse tiptoeing awkwardly around them, trying not to step on any of them as she makes her way to the bed, and is going to try to fall back asleep when he spots Pepper yell-whispering down a phone in the hallway.

He gets up, walks into the hall and stands there until she hangs up, at which point she whirls around to face him, face tight.

“There’s an emergency with the merger, it’d cost billions of dollars if-”

“Tony will understand,” Steve says, and Pepper bites her lip.

“I don’t want to leave him like this. God,  _Tony_.” She puts a hand to her face, breathing in raggedly. “Accept Stark’s offer as Personal Assistant, Virginia, if nothing else it’ll be a good experience, Virginia,” she mutters under her breath, quiet enough that Steve doesn’t think he’s supposed to hear it. She kneads her forehead with her palms, and then drops her hands, fixing Steve with a stare.

“Tony showed me the bruises you gave him.”

Steve has to work hard not to flinch. When she phrases it like  _that_ \- “They’re unintentional, Miss Potts, I swear.”

“Pepper.”

“Pepper,” Steve amends. “They were- I asked him about them, and he insisted he liked them.”

“Oh, like he insisted he was fine?” Pepper’s eyes are bright with unshed tears, her hair frizzing out in ways Steve hasn’t seen it to before. “Steve, you have to know by now that for someone Tony cares about, truly cares about, he will let them drive a knife into his stomach and promise them he loves how it feels. You could’ve- you could’ve beat him and he would try to convince himself it was some fucked up BDSM thing.”

“I never beat him,” Steve says, and squeezes his eyes shut. “God. I never thought I’d have to assure someone I never hit my partner. I really have tried to- to be good to him, I swear.”

“Really? Because I think you’ve been taking a lot more than you’ve been giving.”

“I’m starting to think the same thing.”

Pepper sniffs, brings a hand to her face to scrub it up her cheek. “Well. I’m glad we got that sorted. Rhodey will be having this talk with you as well, when he wakes up. And I damn well hope the rest of your team speaks to you about it, or I’ll be calling them individually and-”

“We all care about Tony very much, M- Pepper.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Captain Rogers,” she tells him, and pauses. “Please tell Tony I’m sorry for leaving, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Then she’s striding down the hall, hair out of place and makeup smudged and running, but her back is ramrod straight, her head high.

Steve watches her go, fists clenched, the words  _I never beat him_  echoing sickeningly in his head.

He remembers, vaguely, telling Tony a few times that he’d be lost without him, remembers once, early on, while he was having a particularly bad night, that Tony’s the only thing keeping Steve in the present, and wonders if that hurt Tony rather than helped him.

 

 

 

 

Tony wakes up again, and stays awake this time, long enough to eat some jello and try to make some business calls.

“Your health is more important than your company,” Steve tells him, and Tony meets his eyes, jaw clenching.

“My company is what pays for everything.”

“You’re tired, Tony. You’re stressed and you’re in a lot of pain, you should be resting, you should be healing.”

Tony scoffs. “I can heal and call someone at the same time!”

“Pepper will handle it.”

“She can’t handle everything, it’s a massive company-”

“I know,” Steve says. “Just- please, Tony. You need to rest.”

It used to make him feel warm when Tony did things just because Steve asked. Now it makes him feel sick.

“Can I talk to you,” he asks Natasha when they’re in the hall in front of a vending machine, waiting for a bag of chips to fall down.

She says, “Sure,” and Steve- haltingly, face burning at parts- tells her everything he’s worried he’s been doing, every time Tony said he was fine and Steve thought he was lying, every time Steve believed him and maybe shouldn’t have.

He finishes long after the chips have fallen into the slot, and Natasha bends to pick it up in the silence that follows. She opens the chips, offers the bag to Steve.

Steve shakes his head and she shrugs, takes a chip and pops it in her mouth.

“Sounds like you have a lot to make up for.”

“I think so.”

“Tony won’t think you do,” she says. “Tony will think he’s the one in the wrong, from what you told me. He’ll also probably try to distract you with sex.”

“He does that a lot,” Steve sighs. “God, I kept thinking a lot, at the start- Tony’s forty six, people at forty-six don’t want as much- as much sex as people in their twenties, right? But Tony never complained, even initiated it a lot, and he always seemed to enjoy it, so I thought-”

Natasha hums through her mouthful, then swallows. “You might want to pay more attention from now on. And be very suspicious when he tries to distract you with sex.”

“I was,” Steve tries. “But, uh.”

“It was sex. And Tony’s very good at sex.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, and puts his head in his hands. “God. I’m awful.”

“You were ignorant,” Natasha allows. She stands closer, pressing their shoulders together. He’s seen her do this with Tony, when they’re talking. “But you know what to look for now. And if you miss something, one of us will notice, because we’ll all be looking, too.”

Steve nods. “Should we go back?”

“We have been standing here for a long time,” Natasha says. “Those kids over there think we’re doing a drug deal.”

“Ah,” Steve says, and nods at the group of teenagers as they pass, who goggle back at him.

 

 

 

 

They take Tony home a week later, his arm, most of his fingers and his ribs still bandaged, his foot still in a cast. He refuses to use a wheelchair so they give him a crutch, and he hobbles into the Tower under their watchful eyes.

Tony seems a little confused by all the attention, narrowing his eyes at Clint when he opens the front door for him.

“Don’t get used to it,” Clint warns, and Tony’s mouth quirks at that, the look fading but not going away entirely.

“Oh, hey, by the way, man-” Clint catches Tony’s shoulder, the un-cut one. “Thor and me, we’re not going to throw any more parties in the Tower. It was irresponsible of us to do it in the first place, and we shouldn’t have expected you to pay for all the damages.”

The suspicious look returns with a vengeance. “Okay,” Tony says slowly, and hobbles into the hall. “I’m going to bed, is that okay with everyone, since you’ve all been staring at me since I left the hospital?”

“I’ll allow it,” Natasha says, straight-faced, and he huffs a laugh at her.

“Wow, thanks.” He looks back at Steve as he boards the elevator, frowns at where Steve is standing outside it. “Steve? You coming?”

“Do you want me to?”

Tony blinks at the serious look Steve is giving him. Shit, did he say something while he was on morphine? “Of course I do,” he says, trying for casual.

“Okay,” Steve says, and gets in with him. “Only if you want me to.”

Tony is a little confused at that, and is even more confused at how many pointed and vaguely threatening looks Steve gets from the rest of the team, but he’s still hazy enough from painkillers not to question it.

The elevator swishes open and Tony hobbles out. “Jesus, I’m tired,” he sighs, sitting down on the bed to pull his shirt off slowly, painfully, all too aware of his ribs, his arms, his still-aching fingers. He gives up and toes off his shoes, then goes back to his shirt.

“Do you want some help with that?”

“Sure,” Tony says, and lets his hands drop as Steve undoes his shirt, eases it off of Tony’s shoulders. He starts in on Tony’s pants and Tony arches forwards instinctively, grinding himself into the heel of Steve’s hand.

“You’re hurt, Tony,” Steve says as he shucks his pants off, pulling them gently over Tony’s bulky cast and then getting peeling off the sock from the other foot, and then Tony is left in his boxers.

“So?” Tony grins down at Steve, pulls him up so he can kiss him. Steve kisses back at first, opening his mouth and letting Tony ease his tongue in, but then he’s pulling away, eyes pinched shut like he’s the one in pain.

“Tony.”

“What,” Tony says, smile fading. “Come on, it’s not that bad, I’m fine.”

Steve kisses his nose, his forehead, his cheek. “You’re hurt. I’m not going to risk hurting you further.” He pauses, looks down at his hands, which are on Tony’s hips, coming to rest there out of habit. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“About what?”

Steve takes a bracing breath. “Tony, I know you don’t like it when I leave bruises.”

Tony swallows. “I already told you, I think they’re hot-”

“You don’t,” Steve says. “They hurt you, but you tolerate them. I’m- I’m not going to do that any more, okay? And if I’m holding too hard without noticing, please tell me. Please, Tony.”

Tony takes in the big, pleading eyes with surprise. “Uh. Sure.”

“No, you’re not-” Steve takes his wrists, absurdly gentle. “I’m serious, Tony.”

“You have superstrength,” Tony points out. “You’re going to leave a few bruises every once in a while-”

“Then tell me when I’m holding on too hard,” Steve pleads. “You don’t have to put up with it, and I won’t mind, I swear. I want- when we’re together, I want it to be good for you, too, I don’t want you to just, to take it just because you think I’ll be mad or disappointed if you tell me I’m being too rough with you, or- or that you don’t feel like making love right now. I promise you, Tony, I won’t get mad at you for it, or whatever you think. I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to be strong for me, to be- my anchor in the now, or something.”

“Why are you telling me this,” Tony asks, trying to keep the panic at bay and mostly succeeding, only letting a kernel of it bleed over into his voice. “I- did I do something? If I did, I’m sorry-”

“No!” Steve’s hands move to his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks. “God,  _no_. Absolutely not. You did nothing wrong, Tony, it’s me that should be apologizing to you.”

“What,” Tony squeaks.

Steve looks like he’s going to cry, and Tony doesn’t  _get_  it.

Steve drops his hands to either side of his own body, forces a breath inwards. “I’m sorry, Tony. I should’ve noticed more, when you said you were fine but you weren’t. I should’ve pushed harder, let you know it was okay to feel all those things. You should never have to feel like you need to do  _anything_  you don’t want to do just to please me. You shouldn’t have to feel like you can’t break down because you have to be my anchor. Okay? I’m should’ve been better to you, and I’m sorry.”

Tony stares at him, at the sheer desperation in his voice. “I forgive you?”

Steve sighs. “Do you even know what you’re forgiving me for?”

Tony shrugs minutely, and Steve sits back on his haunches before moving to sit next to Tony on the bed.

“When we’re- being intimate,” he starts slowly, “I sometimes get too aggressive. I thought you liked it, but apparently you were only saying you did so you didn’t rock the boat. And I think that sometimes you don’t seem that, uh, into doing anything, but you pretend you are, and you go along with it even you don’t really want to. And I’m sorry for letting that go on when I should’ve noticed and stopped it. I’ll try to pay more attention in the future.”

He stops, looks at Tony, who nods dumbly. “It’s okay.”

“Okay,” Steve says quietly. “Uh. When I ask if something’s bothering you, nine times out of ten you say it isn’t, and I’ve been letting that go since I didn’t think any of it was a big deal. But it is, and I’m sorry I didn’t make you feel like you could tell me those things. I’d like you to know how sorry I am for that, and that I’m going to try harder every day at this, until you don’t feel like you have to hide these things from me. Or from your team.”

“It’s- it’s fine,” Tony says, a raw, blunt feeling building in his chest. He tries to swallow it down but it roars upwards, pressing uncomfortably at his throat, at the back of his eyes, making them sting. “I guess this whole thing scared you, huh.”

“That’s not why I’m apologizing,” Steve tells him. “I haven’t been treating you the way you deserve, and I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, Steve, god.”

“But you deserve an apology,” Steve says, his hands coming up to cover Tony’s. “You deserve one from all of us, and you’re going to get one.”

“I think Clint already took care of his.”

“He did,” Steve nods. “And we’re all going to be more considerate about how we treat you from now on.”

“Oh, come on-”

“You may not think you deserve all of this,” Steve cuts him off. “But- we do, Tony, because you do. You deserve all of this and more. You give us so much and you never ask for anything, and we’ve been squandering that.”

“Please shut up,” Tony says, voice cracking on the last word. He thinks about jerking his hands out of Steve’s, wonders if Steve would let him. “Just- stop it.”

“You needed to hear it,” Steve tells him. “I’m sorry I upset you.”

“Are you going to be apologizing this much from now on?”

Steve’s gaze is determined. “If I need to, yes.”

“You don’t need to, Steve, it’s not a big  _deal_.”

“I think it’s a huge deal how we’ve been treating you,” Steve says. His throat works, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “And we’d all really appreciate it if you told someone when something is bothering you, if you need any kind of help. It doesn’t even have to be me, just one of us. We’re all here for you if you need us.”

“Oh my god,” Tony snarls, but it’s watery and there’s no real force behind it, and he can feel himself shaking, the hurt awakening over his body, all the cuts and bruises and scrapes lighting up over his skin. “Could we stop talking now?”

“Okay,” Steve says. “Do you want to go to bed? You said you were tired.”

“I am,” Tony says, and Steve helps him up despite getting glared at for his troubles.

Tony gets under the covers, watches Steve do the same after he shucks off his clothes. When Steve hesitates after getting into bed, Tony glares harder at him and pushes close.

Steve circles an arm around Tony after a moment, resting his chin on Tony’s head. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, this is okay,” Tony spits, and he’s really shaking now, practically vibrating in Steve’s arms. He’s breathing hard.

The first sob is a shock, but Tony supposes it was a long time coming. Steve doesn’t say anything, but ducks his head to press his mouth into Tony’s hair, stroking a palm up and down Tony’s bare, shaking back.

“Thanks,” he croaks finally, after a humiliating few minutes of crying into Steve’s chest. “Uh. I’ll try to do the going to people for help thing.”

“Thank you,” Steve says quietly, kissing Tony’s forehead.

Tony rubs his mouth absently against Steve’s neck. “No promises, though.”

“I don’t expect any,” Steve says, and Tony closes his eyes, willing Steve to feel his gratitude via osmosis, pressing close to Steve and letting his breathing even out.

His last thought before he falls asleep is how oddly safe he feels in Steve’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> here's my [tumblr](http://theappleppielifestyle.tumblr.com/).


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